Closure
by SarahStilinski
Summary: After the untimely death of Allison Argent, the remaining teen heroes of Beacon Hills are left to cope with their loss. Joins Lydia, Scott, and Stiles on the day of Allison's funeral. Takes place 2 weeks after the events of episode 3x23, "Insatiable".
1. Sister

Lydia Martin woke up to rain on the day she had been dreading the most. She didn't know why she dreaded it. Her whole body filled with anxiety thinking about it. The warmth she felt on her feet left as her dog stood up and padded out of her room, the tags jangling on its collar. She sat up, clutching her white duvet to her chest. Lydia had gotten very little sleep. Horrible dreams haunted her, putting her into a state of despair every night for the past two weeks. Nothing could soothe her. She had lost her sister.

The outfit she had laid out still sat on the chair in her room. Usually she would've spent time on an outfit to make sure it was to her liking. But this one was haphazardly put together. She didn't care what she looked like today; the attention shouldn't be on her. She got up, her feet hitting the ground, filling her with the same kind of dread every morning caused. Her whole body ached and protested as she drew herself from her toasty bed. Her room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the window. Everything was tinted blue from the low rainy light, emphasizing the dull atmosphere.

The rain grew heavier as she walked downstairs. Her feet hit each stair and filled her with more and more remorse. She knew she had to eat breakfast for once. Eating had become more of a chore lately. She found herself staring out the window above the kitchen sink, wondering if the rain was really the universe's way of saying _I'm sorry._

Giving up on her breakfast, she took herself upstairs to get dressed. Peeling off the pajamas she had sweat through during the night, she caught her reflection in the mirror next to her. The youthful color she had always loved about herself was gone. She looked strikingly pale, and didn't bother to fix it. There was no pretending to be happy.

The outfit hung awkwardly on her like no outfit ever did. She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering if it was even worth it to fix it. _"Allison would want me to,"_ she thought, _"I need to respect her."_ Quickly pulling off the dress, she pulled out a black skirt and a dark shirt. Pulling it all on, complete with black tights, she felt more confident. More honorable to Allison. "_Today is a day of closure," _she reminded herself.

**_A/N: Hello! This is just the very first part of an idea I've had in my head for a while. It's probably going to be short; I've been away from the fan fiction game for a while. I just really wanted to give justice to Allison since so far there's been no honoring her. I really wanted to capture the other characters' feelings, since there has been no display of that either. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!_**

_**-Sarah**_


	2. Lover

_Oh I'm a mess right now, inside out._

_Searching for a sweet surrender, but this is not the end._

_I can't work it out, going through the motions, going through us._

Scott McCall's alarm went off, but he was already awake. Sleep was rare with him lately. He sat up in his bed, rubbing his face. He didn't want to get up. He didn't ever want to get up again. But he had to; for Allison. His chest filled with hopelessness with the thought of her name. He always tried to avoid thinking of her; to avoid the impending sense of doom that came along with it. He was never going to feel her warm, soft skin again, or hear her melodious laughter. He could hardly stand the reality of never seeing her again. He had been in denial over the past few weeks. _"Maybe she'll come back,"_ he thought. _"Maybe the insanity of this town will actually do something good for me. Please."_ He closed his eyes, trying to stop the memories from flooding back to him. The dam that held all his love for her had finally broken, but it was all too late. He sniffed his nose, holding back the tears that threatened to spill every time his thoughts came to her. First he smelled rain, and then her. Her scent still lingered in his room, even after all this time. It comforted him.

He forced himself to get out of bed. _"It doesn't hurt." _Her voice echoed over and over in his mind, hitting him like a pound of bricks. He stood in the middle of his room, replaying it all in his head unwillingly. He wished he didn't hurt. He could feel her breath getting shallow as she took her last ones. Her body going completely lifeless and her eyes glazing over. _"It's perfect,"_ she had said, blood dripping from her mouth and every inch of her shaking, struggling to keep her life just for those last few moments. "_I'm in the arms of my first love."_ The burn he felt in his entire body that night came back to him, stinging like it just happened. It wasn't perfect to him._"I love you, Scott McCall." _He closed his eyes and her words resonated in his mind.

_He just wished he said it back. _

Before even leaving his room, he sensed his mother's own bleakness. She appeared at the door, only giving him a look of empathy. It pained him to see his mom as sad as he felt. _"Shes the one, Scott." _She would always say. "_You need to tell her how you feel."_ Her small stature approached him and engulfed him in a hug. She squeezed him like somehow she could squeeze all his sorrow out of him. He wished she could.

Scott had always felt so uncomfortable in a suit. He tugged at the collar as his mother helped him adjust it. He remembered the last time he had worn one was on an evening he had spent with Allison. The memory shot through him achingly, and he forced himself to shake it. He couldn't stand his own conscience anymore. Everything around him reminded him of her. Every instance he would relate back to her. It was impossible for him to face he would never spend another night with her, another day just driving around. He would never kiss her again. He could never tell her he loved her again.

His mother's hand spread warmth on his cheek. He forced a weak smile, listening to the patter of her heart. She said nothing, but he could feel her trying to be strong for her son. He appreciated his mom, more than he could ever say. She had sacrificed so much for him, and was one of the only things he could hold onto now. He wanted to keep her as close as possible. _"I can't lose her, too."_

He sat on his bed once his mother left the room. He took in the scent of his room again, making sure she was still with him in some form. _"It's okay,_" her voice from that horrible night came to him again. It would hopefully be okay. He needed closure.

_**A/N: hello again! I really enjoyed writing this one. Well, it actually made me kind of sad, but hopefully that's a good thing to you readers. I thought the song at the beginning was fitting. A little too upbeat for what I was aiming for if you listen to it, but I wanted to put the lyrics in. If you wanted to listen, it's 'I'm a Mess' by Ed Sheeran. As always feedback is appreciated!**_

_**-Sarah**_


	3. Friend

The harsh buzzing of the alarm clock shocked Stiles Stilinski out of bed. He cherished all the sleep he could possibly get now. Sleep had been hard to come by, with an evil spirit trying to take over his life and all. But today he had to wake up. Stiles picked himself up out of the tangle of blankets and bashed the button on his alarm clock. Silence filled the room and he was reminded why he had to get up. His chest weighed heavy while staring at the wall. Slits of light shone on his dark blue wall, cast from the blinded window. _"This is my fault,"_ he thought again.

The thought had been haunting him for weeks. Maybe if somehow, he had fought the spirit himself, or had been there and conscience, or somehow prevented the spirit from possessing him in the first place, she would've lived. The guilt almost ate him alive in private. She saved his life, but at the terrible cost of her own.

His stomach growled for food. Food had been what he looked forward to every day. Sleep and food, two great commodities people took advantage of. He was grateful to be able to have them again. _"Baby steps,"_ he had told himself once he started to recover. _"Think of the small things."_

It was easy to feel guilty. It was easy to feel guilty on this day. While he was recovering and still living, Allison was no longer. Sometimes he couldn't eat or sleep because he knew Allison wouldn't ever again. _"She deserves these things more than me,"_ he always thought.

He could still hear Lydia's screams when she felt the final blow to Allison. It rang through his head almost every day. Although unconscious, he heard it. It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest and nails were being dragged on a chalkboard. The piercing scream of the banshee was something he would never forget. He wished he could've done something, anything. There must've been a way it could've been prevented.

He was hungry, but couldn't find the strength to eat. He abandoned his cereal and dragged himself back upstairs, intending to get dressed. He shivered as he shut his window from the rain. The cold reminded him of that day. He couldn't seem to become warm on that day, or ever since.

_He woke up. Maybe she will, too._

The worst part was, when it happened, he felt no sympathy._ "There was a spirit possessing you," _he told himself when he thought about it. He could've been awake though, comforting Lydia, or Scott. His mind crowded with ways things could've gone differently every day. He just wanted to rewind and fix everything.

The suit he had was more than a few years old. He felt awful for not getting a new one for the occasion, but he really had no funds to do that. The financial drainage of hospital visits and psychiatric help was too much. He came downstairs and noticed his father taking the cereal bowl he left over to the sink. Stiles caught his father's eye, waiting for something, anything. He just nodded. Coming around the counter to stiles, he patted his shoulder. Stiles didn't think the two of them had the capacity for all of the grief now. He couldn't help but feel reminiscent of his mother's funeral. Ever since his mother's death, the effects of death around him were amplified. His heart weighed with empathy. Losing someone so close was the worst thing to bear in life. He just hoped that somehow he wouldn't have to go through it again. He didn't think he could find closure again, but he would try.

_**A/N: well, this was kind of short. My thoughts were scrambled while writing this, but I wanted to capture Stiles' guilt. Hopefully I did that. The next chapter will probably take me a while to write, but will be the longest and the last. I have some thoughts for a sequel sort of thing but will have to think it through some more. As always feedback is loved!**_


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